Shippers Anonymous
by downton grasshopper
Summary: A collection of drabbles prompted by chelsie-anon on tumblr. Will update as I answer more.
1. The one with dinner and wine

_AN: Welcome shipper anonymous readers, just a note to let you know I appreciate all the reviews I got so far, they make me very happy!_

_A warning: English is not my first language and I don't have a beta (all mistakes are my own, feel free to point them out so I can improve myself)_

_Prompt parts are boldened and not written by me, the rest is. Enjoy!_

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**They were on their way down the village main street after finishing their shopping when the skies opened up and it began to pour. Charles pulled Elsie into the warmth of the Grantham Arms. "Looks as though we might have to settle in for a bit, what say we have dinner and wait for the storm to pass?" he asked shaking the rain from his hat. The imperious butler ordered a sumptuous supper along with a fine bottle of wine which seemed to be going straight to Elsie's head.**

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The storm came and went when they were only halfway through their meal but neither of them remarked it, their chatting was just too distracting and the wine blushed their faces and loosened their tongues enough for him to openly laugh at her funny story of when she was first training a maid in a place he could never remember the name again.

She didn't even register him offering her the meal, but she sure remembers thinking he did it so smoothly it was probably something he was used to back in the days and when they exited in the open street it suddenly felt like a date. The cool breeze carrying the smell of rain sobered her a bit, just enough to recognize her state out loud: "I don't think I can walk all the way back to the house, my head is spinning." she giggled.

Thinking about it now Elsie frowns at her boldness but cannot really say she minds it. She did take his hand instead of his elbow when he suggested the night bus and she even leaned in his bulky figure while they walked to the bus stop, he felt so solid and warm… she might have been a little silly, she admits it.

The bus never came and they discovered only later that they waited on the wrong spot and missed the last ride but at that time it really didn't matter.

They were tipsy and happy and away from prying eyes. And that's how they ended at the old mill by the stream…

Elsie doesn't mind that Charles fell asleep on her, the laughs and the awkward exploring and the few tentative kisses they shared the night before are more than enough to tell her it was no accident. She smiles taking a straw out of his now messy hair and watches him sleep in the early light of the morning.

She always loved summer storms. And wine. And Charles.


	2. The one with Lughnasadh

**Charles set aside the book of ancient Scottish history he had been reading and glanced at his calendar. Just two more days to prepare his surprise in accordance with the gaelic Druid calendar. Lughnasadh, the 1st of August, the first harvest festival to mark the beginning of fall. Unbeknownst to her, he has already adjusted her schedules and rotas so that she will have the evening off as well as a half day the following morning.**

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Two days of impatient wait, of ambush behind doors to listen, undetected, to Mrs Pattmore delivering lines as they rehearsed the previous week, two nights of little sleep, too anxious to close his eyes, two days and two nights of reviewing every part of the plan in fear something might go wrong and end up being a failure…

It all boiled down to her walking through the door with the afternoon tea and see him with the ring in his hands and he was already stuttering something when in an attempt to hide it behind his back he hit the tray and in what he will forever relive in his mind in slow motion the tea set crashed on the floor of his pantry, partially saved by the carpet.

He found himself kneeling on the floor, while everyone gathered at the door and Elsie stood wide eyed at the center of the room.

"Yes," she said.

And he looked up to see the ring in his hand held up high in front of him not quite as planned.

Not at all as planned as it turned out, as he explained years later by the fire to a young George Crawley: "At the fair that night I was going to present her with a ring I found at the village antique shop after I traced her family tree back to the gods of the sun. It held a beautiful crest…"

"But not mine," she added giggling and offering a bisquit to the child.

"I made a mistake somewhere in VII century and gave her a druid ancestor." he winked back.

"But you married her anyway," said little George frowning.

"Of course I did! That may not have been my intention to propose, certainely not like that, and after discovering she was a goddess," at which Elsie rolled her eyes "but I know when to take a chance!"


	3. The one with Mrs Patmore

**Elsie looked up from the ledger she was working in when she heard the sound of Beryl Patmore giggling. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she realized the sound was coming from Charles' pantry. The two passed her open door and she saw Beryl swat him playfully with her dishtowel and say "You are a brazen one, Mr. Carson!" After stewing for most of the evening, she went to his pantry to confront him only to discover his desk set with fine china, crystal and dinner for two.**

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Elsie purses her lips at the sight of Beryl perched on the desk lighting candles but says nothing. She instead traces her own path back to her sitting room and closes the door shut when she hears a light giggle in the hallway.

Whatever happened to propriety? Have they no decency? Forgot all manners? Flirting openly and for everyone to see… and on her birthday!

By the way, she has the half day off but the cook does not and she shouldn't be having dinner at this hour with her butler.

… H_er_ butler?! Where in heavens did that come from? She should rationalize: Charles and Beryl are her best friends… her only friends, probably, there is no mine or theirs… it's… everyone on their own. Yes. No one is no one elses… and Beryl should remember that! Of all people… Did she accidentally built Beryl's interest in the butler talking about him with her? Perhaps that always denying any sort of deeper feeling was counterproductive in the end…

Whatever. She has no deeper feelings anyway. The butler is not hers and she shouldn't be jealous.

Is she jealous? Of Beryl? No… no. Of course not. Jealous…

This must be her worst birthday in a long time. Probably of all time!

Don't be silly, Elsie, they don't know and you're making a fool of yourself, she chides herself.

And you should be happy for them! She declares in her own mind picking up a pen and resuming her work. She has a half day and she's working. On her birthday… And it was Beryl who suggested she took the half day off. Elsie sniffs. A cold, she's getting a cold, that's all.

A knock on the door and the cook's ginger head peeks in: "Mrs Hughes, can i ask you a favor?"

She swallows her disapponitment and manages a smile: "Of course"

"Mr Carson has accidentally locked himself in his pantry, could you please go and open the door with your key?"

What a sordid affair… she thinks, that door was never locked in 20 years and the lock must be so rusty it's stuck. Well, serves him right if he was planning on locking himself up with Beryl and… She sighs and gets her keys following the cook down the hall. "You know, why don't I just give you the key and you return it when you're done?" she says when they stop.

Beryl frowns: "What?"

And then Charles opens the door to his pantry with a similar frown and repeats: "What?"

"I don't want the key to his pantry," Beryl laughs "if you could give me the one to the store cupboard I'd leave you two to your romantic dinner." she says instead.

There's a tray with dishes in the room and a wrapped box very much looking like a birthday present on the desk and Charles is positively blushing and… she's feeling like an idiot by the second so she stares at her feet and sniffs, laughing trough the tears.

"Whatever happened?" Beryl asks confused

"You can have the store cupboard key, Mrs Patmore" she hears herself saying "just for this week!"

And then she locks the door.


	4. The one with the butler in the bathroom

_AN: The prompts are always in simple past tense I know, but I feel more comfortable writing in present form, I hope that doesn't bother you too much, think about the prompt part as a setting for what's going to happen next_

**It had been a very long day, getting the family off to Scotland for their annual visit to family at Dunn Eagle. The remaining staff had been given several days off to visit family or friends and she was looking forward to the peace and quiet of a long soak in the tub. Wearing only her dressing gown and slippers, Elsie opened the bathroom door to hear the sound of running water and Charles Carson singing "She stole my heart away!"**

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She closes the door and turns on her heels heading back to her room with a crimson face but she stops in the middle of the hallway when she hears a thud and a muffled sound from the bathroom.

Hurrying back in she knocks on the door and calls: "Mr Carson, are you alright in there?"

No answer.

"Mr Carson?" slightly fretting she looks around the empty dim hallway and cracks the door open enough to see his bare legs from behind the bathtub as he's laying on the floor.

Her heart stops and she pushes the door open calling his name a little louder, rounding the bathtub, finding him half sitting half laying on the tiles and completely naked.

For some dreaded 5 seconds they just stare at each other in shock, both open mouthed and violently blushing, till he manages a: "What…?" and she grabs a towel from the nearby chair and toss it at him over her shoulder.

It lands on his face and he can barely register her inquisition: "What happened?"

"You came in while I was having a bath!"

"That was because I heard a thud"

"Couldn't you knock?"

"I did! There was no answer!" she replies turning to face him with an angry look

Thankfully he's covered himself a bit and is standing there in a puddle on the floor frowning. "I slipped." he finally offers.

He must have fell on his ass pretty hard because he's still massaging his bum and slightly leaning forward. And blushing, poor dear! She takes pity on him and closes the distance between them, helping him towards the chair. But he just stops her rising a hand and shaking his head, he's sure he can manage on his own, she does not need to worry.

"Let me at least get you an ointment for that," she suggests and he blushes deeper, covering his crotch now, like he's in pain, or like he's reading her mind (which is picturing herself massaging ointment on his rear and kissing his shoulders and back in the process). She shakes those thoughts and orders him to get dressed and meet her in his room in a few minutes.

What she forgot is that she's still wearing her light dressing gown and the fabric is so thin and worn out it's almost revealing. Almost… What he can't see he can surely imagine… And it will take him a while to get down from that high.


	5. The one with the stormy night

_Thank you for the reviews I got, they made my week :D I'll post a couple of drabbles this week and try to write some more so stay tuned_

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**It was a dark and stormy night and Elsie was due back from the village an hour ago. Charles is pacing from his pantry to the back door every five minutes. He finally decides to venture out into the storm to search for her. Returning, two hours and several inches of rain later, he sees her alighting from Isobel Crawley's motorcar – dry, rosy cheeked and laughing.**

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Elsie is not alone in the car. Charles cannot see who's on board from that angle but it is definitely a man, someone bold enough to flirt with the housekeeper and kiss her hand before letting her slip inside. His outraged look and scowl meet her just inside the door.

'Mr Carson,' she greets him walking past him down the steps. 'Where have you been with this weather?' she asks casually after taking in his drenched clothes and the pool of water gathering at his feet.

'Where have _I_ been? Where have _you_ been!?' he thunders without thinking at how ridiculous a question that is.

Elsie doesn't answer, she's already down the hall and in her sitting room looking for towels and when she turns around he's standing at her door, dripping all over the floor.

'You better take those off before you catch your death,' she says draping a towel over his head. She's already taken off her coat and she starts unbottoning his when his brain catches up.

'Mrs Hughes!'

She looks up at him and for a second they're both silently staring at each other terrified.

'I'll make some tea, you take those off and dry yourself.' she orders.

She's back less than ten mintues later with two cups and a smile. She finds him still completely dressed in wet clothes near the stove and her smile turns into pursed lips: 'You really fancy pneumonia Mr Carson.' But he's stressing the towel and looks positively defeated, so she leaves the cups on her desk and sits with him by the stove.

'I went looking for you thinking you under the weather and you were…' he mutters.

'I was at Mrs Crawley's instructing the new maid.' she finishes. But she sees his disbelief and adds: 'She was entertaining Doctor Clarckson and he offered to safely deliver me home when we left.'

'Dr Clarckson?!' he bursts 'Was Dr Clarckson kissing your hand?!'

Elsie giggles and starts poking at his jacket bottons again. 'He's a real gentleman, he let me sit in the back of the car with him so I wouldn't get drenched.'

'A _real_ gentleman wouldn't do that,' he counters frowning.

'Well, that depends on your definition of gentleman then.'

She unbottoned his jacket and his vest already and starts loosening his tie before relentlessly freeing his shirt's bottons too. She never looks up at him and he's grateful for that because he's compeltely paralized and must be looking like a fool. At least he hopes the fire will mask the blush he feels creeping up his neck and cheek, to the tip of his ears.

But when she's done with the bottons they both don't know what to do and it's Elsie suggesting he helps himself out of his clothes while she turns to pour tea in the cups. They sip tea silently for awhile, Charles covering his embarrassement under a blanket from her sitting room and Elsie lost in thought untill they forget about his state of undress and it's like any other night by the fire having tea in companionable silence.

He asks about the new maid, she talks about the fine china at Crawley's House, he says he's reading a new book, she asks about the one she recommended, he touches her hand when he takes the cup from her and she tells him Dr Clarckson wouldn't have come looking for her under the weather… He doesn't know what to say and she smiles, thanks him and he think maybe she sees him as a gentleman too now, whatever that means. They finally fall asleep on the settee by the stove in her sitting room.

He wakes up the morning after, stertled by a sneeze. Elsie, sniffs, dries her nose and curls up around him still half asleep. He ponders briefly what a gentleman would do but a sneeze takes him too by surprise and they're both startled awake facing each other through sleepy eyes. Elsie giggles first, he follows and they both sneeze soon after, like a lady and a gentleman would.


	6. The one with the note in the book

_Ah kids, get your handkerchieves out for this one's odd for me_

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**Elsie is sorting through the books in his pantry looking for one of the ledgers from last year to verify the costs as requested by his Lordship. As her fingers walk along the spines of his leatherbound tomes, she discovers an unexpected treat, a volume of poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. She opens the cover and finds a dedication: For my Elsie, keeper of the key to my heart, forever yours, Charles.**

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Elsie almost drops the book, but thinks better than to draw unwanted attentions and balancing it under her arm she keeps looking for what she was there in the first place.

Later, when the hallways are dark and all the doors are closed for the night, she retires in her room and flips trough the pages of poems where words or lines or sometimes even entire paragraphs have been underlined. Occasionally there are notes by his handwriting and dried flower petals.

Elsie snorts, old fool… He must have left it there for her when he moved to Haxby years before.

She can only close the book, let it rest on her bedside table, place her glasses on top of it and turn the light off with a sigh. He could have told her… but he never did, not once when they met on their half days off, not even when he retired.

Elsie shifts on the bed and thinks of all the things she'd tell him now. She doesn't need to make a list, she has words and lines and whole paragraphs underlined.

She'll bring the book next time she visits his grave, in the morning.

... _told you_


	7. The one with the missing wine

_And now a more lighter one..._

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**Charles Carson cannot account for 3 of his Lordships best bottles of wine. He's checked his ledgers and the wine cellar, 3 times. Taking a deep breath, he rubs at his temples, willing his headache to recede. Elsie Hughes knocked and gently opened the door of his pantry so as not to startle the man. She stood silently at the sight of him leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, her tummy clenching when she saw his brow furrow and a small grimace cross his face.**

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"Mr Carson?" she calls gently.

But he seems unresponding so she tries again, trying stepping inside: "Mr Carson, i brought you coffee."

This time he looks up as she lays a tray on his desk, carefully removing a cup of hot black liquid and depositing it in front of him.

"Coffee, Mrs Hughes?" his brow furrows further. He was probably expecting tea… or nothing at all.

"For your headache," she answers. The man looks really confused now, could she be mistaking?

"How did you know?"

She sits in front of him on the other side of the desk and sips from her cup before smiling back at his lovely pouts: "Well, I do have a headache and I honestly cannot think you'd be in better shape today."

He looks even more confused now. "What happened? Did the maids crash another of the crystals?"

She giggles lightly at his concerns: "Had that be the case my head would explode! No, I'm just not 20 anymore…" she adds with a sigh.

The coffee is strong and he grimaces in between sips, she looks at him fascinated till he cracks and lays back on his chair: "I cannot find three bottles of wine," he finally admits.

"What do you mean you cannot find them?"

"I mean, they were here yesterday and I checked today and they are not here anymore!"

She's now staring at him surprised and it feels a little unconfortable.

"Mr Carson…" she leans on the edge of the desk in a conspirational tone "Wouldn't they be the ones we drank last night?"


	8. The one with the butler under the tree

_Thank you everyone who commented so far :) you made my days_

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**Though it was his afternoon off, he was not in the habit of missing supper. She remembered him heading out, book in hand and a rug tucked over his arm. She found him asleep under the old oak tree, one arm carelessly tossed over his head, rogue curl hanging over one brow. Mind wandering to thoughts of what it might have been like to come across him asleep like this in the lofts over the stables when he was a young lad, she felt her cheeks flush hot as she knelt beside him.**

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She picks up the book and starts to leaf through the pages. She sits, eventually, next to him and sighs but he doesn't seem to wake up just yet…

Placing the book down on the rug once again she calls him softly and brushes a curly strand off his forhead… and he only grunts not opening his eyes, so she smiles, picks up a daisy from the ground and secure it at his breast pocket giggling to herself.

Charles mumbles something in his sleep and it sounds like her name so she answers and he mumbles something else she doesn't understand. she picks up another daisy and then another and soon after Elsie is in the process of making a flower crown when she finds him staring at her.

"You didn't show up for supper." she informs him.

"What time is it?"

She looks at the setting sun: "Almost 8."

Charles sighs but doesn't move.

"We should go back to the house," she suggests. "Thomas had the gong tonight and everyone thinks you're getting the lad some more responsibility so we don't really have to worry about being late…" she adds then.

"But we should go back." he finally says still not moving. His curly head so tempting, Elsie smiles trying to refrain herself from combing her fingers through his hair. Instead she hides the flower crown behind her back.

None of them makes any attempt to stand up and they enjoy the sunset a little longer. "We could stay," he whispers.

"We could," she agrees.

"Because I'm too old to sleep on the ground and I cannot seem to be able to stand." he confesses then slightly blushing. Elsie fails to hide her giggle and they end up both laughing when their knees pop standing up.

"Oh I wish I were 20 again!"

"You don't look that old now with…" she offers brushing that curl off his forhead again. Elsie is not sure but he might have blushed too and she suddenly wishes the ground to swallow her whole. Instead he stands taller and smiles back at her.

The sun is gone, she takes his proffered arm as they slowly make their way toward the house.

If he were 20 he'd ask her to dance but he'll probably ask her for a hot water bottle for his back instead and if he's bold enough and extremely lucky even a back rub.


	9. The one with the undone housekeeper

_Ahah, this is the first I ever wrote I think, good fun_

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**Charles Carson glances out an upstairs window to find Elsie Hughes in the side yard, teaching one of the new housemaids how to beat the carpets properly. He notices the flush of her cheeks and the sweat upon her brow as well as the fact that she has undone the top buttons of her blouse in the summer heat.**

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Charles averts his eyes and goes back to his business of… whatever he was doing, ah, taking downstairs the trays. But just for a few moments because he's peeking out the next window again when he sees her moving back inside the house and he's still looking out trying to think about ice cubes in his pants when she climbs the steps behind him.

"Mr Carson, there's a package for you downstairs," she informs him.

Shifting on his feet he turns around to see she's still… disheveled. And hot, so very hot. She is now reaching to take the trays away from him and he's glued to the undone buttons so revealing from his position.

"Do you want me to send Anna collect the…" She's suddenly speaking again and heading downstairs expecting him to follow, so he does, answering casually to her business questions and when they're finally alone in his pantry where the package was delivered she takes out a handkerchief to dry a bit and that's when he loses it completely, closing the door and facing her in all his height:

"Mrs Hughes, do you see me undoing my tie or rolling up my shirt sleeves while working?"

Her answering look is puzzled.

"Then why do you think it's appropriate to unbotton your blouse?" he continues.

She tilts her head on the side and considers his question: "I don't know about rolled up sleeves, but your trousers would probably reveal less if bottoned all the way up."


	10. The one with the fair

**The last of the servants has finally left for the fair in Thirsk and Charles has slipped down to the kitchen for sandwiches and a large portion of Mrs. Patmore's apple tart. He is walking past her parlor when he hears a low contented sigh and is surprised she didn't go with the others. Tiptoeing up behind her settee, he is startled to find that she has removed her skirt and blouse and is sitting in the dark in her shift and stockings, trying to keep cool in the summer heat.**

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He's fronzen on the spot holding his breath, but the fan she's using to keep herself cool stops its movement: "I was expecting you, Charles." a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"I, uh… How did you…?"

"Your cologne gave you away," says Elsie turning around and facing him with a full smile now.

Charles drops next to her on the settee and she helps him with removing his tie and shoes and socks. "Oh I've been waiting for this moment all day," he whispers in her ear.

She giggles and they both sighs with contentment as they rest in their underwear with their feet up in the dark of the room with only the crickets singing in the distance.

"It was my understanding you'd go to the fair too," he finally speaks.

She hums her affirmative answer and then adds: "I told everyone I'd go so they'll behave knowing I'm around but I couldn't resist a whole day of empty house and lazyness with you…"

They smile at each other and he takes her hand.

Later, when everyone's back and Charles is taking a tour of the house to make sure everything is in order she slips out and pretends to be just back, smiling and waving her goodnights to the maids still in the servants hall. She can hear their speculations as she climbs the stairs: oh yes, she had a date alright, a fabulous night with a misterious stranger… who did manage to see her with a tall mustached man?! … As she chuckles to herself she thinks perhaps Charles could grow a mustache before the next fair, she'll surely enjoy that!


	11. The one with the neighbouring cottages

**Charles and Elsie have both retired into neighbouring cottages. One night Charles is closing his bedroom curtains when he notices from there he can see directly into Elsie's bathroom; where she is currently taking off her robe ready for her bath.**

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And that's why he closes the blinds, curses himself and goes to bed.

But he cannot sleep. He cannot unsee what's been seen and he saw! The white skin of her arms and the way her hair fell on her shoulders, the gentle curve of her spine… What is he supposed to do now? That woman is clearly teasing him! She should have closed her blinds! What if someone saw her? … He did!

Better him than some stranger… he thinks. Or is it, better?

Because he cannot help tossing and turning in his bed all night and he has a terrible dream in which Elsie was having a bath in his room and the floor was covered in bubbles and she was singing an old song he used to know from the stages and when she turned around she smiled at him and climbed on the bed with him to rest her still dripping glorious nudity next to him…

It was a very wet dream and he woke up sweating profusely with one hand down his pants.

Cursing himself for the hundredth time he takes a bath himself, dries and changes and making penance for being such a ridiculous old filthy man he knocks at her door at 7AM.

"Mr Carson," she greets him still sleepy "why the long face?"

"I have a confession, Mrs hughes," he says when they are sitting at her table with a cup of coffee "your bathroom window, it faces my bedroom window," he continues as she nods "and I… the blinds were open and I… you should close your blinds when you decide to have a bath." he suggests with finality burying his nose in his cup to avoid her questioning look.

Elsie frowns: "Mr Carson, were you snooping?"

"No!" he answers promptly "I would never!"

She just smiles sounding relieved: "So you did not see the scar on my back."

"You have no scar on your back, your back is beautiful!" he says before he can catch himself and she laughs.

Caught.

But she's oddly not mad at him…

That night, before taking her usual bath, she sits by her bedroom window behind the curtain and waits for Charles to take a bath with open blinds, as always, right in front of her. She always knew he had a shapely bottom.


	12. The one with the quick dip

_AN: Dear readers anonymous, thank you so much for still being out there :D__ I have so many prompts yet to write_

_This one's super silly, you have been warned!_

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**Charles Carson decides to take the long path back to Downton Abbey on his half day off. Coming into a secluded glade on the lakeshore, he gazes longingly at the cool water lapping against the wooden dock and decides to shed his clothing in favor of a quick dip. Rising from the water after twenty minutes or so, he finds Elsie Hughes standing at the end of the dock with his clothing in her hands and a mischievous smile on her face.**

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"How's the water, Mr Carson?"

'Clear, so clear, too clear,' he thinks, trying to find cover in the grove of reeds. "It's… uh…"

Elsie looks around and kneels on the dock to touch the water: "Cold?" she prompts.

"No, it's… it's just perfect." But he cannot finish his phrase that she's splashing in the water, head first beside him.

The pond is not very deep but who knows if Elsie can swim and Charles is barely able to register his current state of undress when he reaches for her.

Elsie gasps for air and almost immediately breaks into laughter gripping the edge of the dock as Charles circles her waist in an effort to help her afloat.

"I slipped!" she offers in between laughters and his concerned look turns into a smile of relief.

It takes them a little over a minute to notice all their clothes are now drenched: his are swimming towards the middle of the pond, hers glued to her figure.

Good thing the water was a bit cold after all…


	13. The one after Matthew's funeral

**A week since the funeral and Carson was still climbing the stairs every whip-stitch to check on his precious Lady Mary. Elsie wanted to be cross with the girl for causing him such stress but found she couldn't. She shoo-ed him upstairs and with quiet reigning throughout the house, she made her way upstairs to his room. Opening the door, she peered in to find him sleeping against the headboard, his reading glasses at the tip of his nose, hands clutching the book in his lap.**

* * *

She slips inside and quietly closes the door. In a sudden moment of self awareness facing the wooden door she understands she's unable to stop worrying about him much the same as Charles cannot stop worrying about his Lady Mary. She's an old fool. They both are.

Letting her hand fall at her side from the door handle she sighs and approaches his bed. She doesn't wake him, he keeps restlessly dreaming for his eyelids flutter but he doesn't move even when the mattress sinks as she sits next to him. She silently takes his glasses off and replaces the book in his hands with her own hand.

His light snoring is all there is. Elsie tries to shift him to a more comfortable position but has to call him softly and he doesn't even open his eyes, a ghost of a smile at his lips, he grabs her hand tighter and she slides down on the bed with him, head on his chest, tangled legs and his heavy arm across her middle. They slept like this the past week, since Mr Crawley's funeral.

She does not mind the back ache in the morning, or the numb arm, she does not care about restless nights as long as she can help him rest. She secretly dreads the day he'll be able to sleep alone again since she no longer can.


	14. The one with the kitten

_AN: Thank you all for your comments! This is the latest I wrote and from now on updates will be less frequent but I hope to keep up, especially now that Downton is returning :)_

_This one's on the funny fluffy side_

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**Elsie & Charles retired a year when he was called back for a party. Afterwards Charles, anxious to return home, decided not to wait for a ride. Hiking in the storm, he found a large pond across the road. Half-way round, he heard splashing & yowling from a tiny ginger tabby swimming the other way. "Vermin, serves you right!" He was about to turn when the kitten disappeared. Pausing and waiting for the mewling to let him know the kitten had surfaced, the night air was silent.**

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Elsie opened the door to a drenched disheveled and grumpy butler with a weak looking ruffled kitten balancing on his shoulder trembling, equally dripping with water. "Whatever happened?"

Charles didn't answer right away, taking the time to free himself from his boots before stepping inside while she rushed to get him a towel and pour some tea.

He pointed angrily at the little ball of trembling fur now on the floor: "It followed me home, I couldn't get rid of it!" he finally offered as an explanation, cracking under his wife's glare. In his mind was still vivid the memory of Pebble, his childhood baby chick that never grew to be a rooster when he met Maddox, the neighbours cat. Or of Toothy, the little rat he adopted when he first moved to Ripon working as a coolie before leaving for the stages, who faced a similar fate by the paws of Hawk, a stray cat missing an eye… Vermins! that's what they were.

"This is all your fault," he cursed under his breath.

Although watching Elsie pet the small thing was soothing… in an unexpected way.

He sat down by the fire with tea after removing his wet clothes, Elsie dropping kisses on his head and back with the excuse of drying his hair with another towel.

"All your fault," he repeated satisfied when the kitten curled on his lap.


	15. The one with Grigg

_AN: This prompt answer will be a little different. I wrote it before the first episode of the fourth season aired and I wanted to adapt it to my speculation for the upcoming plotline so I split it a bit and altered something... I hope you won't mind. It turned out to be quite long for my standards :)_

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Here is how i received it:** Who is this fellow she's walking out with? And such a rough looking sort, according to Molesley. I've tried so very hard to tell her how I feel, to show her at least. I'll have to see for myself, there she is now, knocking on Mrs. Crawley's door. My god, it couldn't be, not… Charlie Grigg! I… I can't… no, I need some time… the ruins, that's the place… I can breathe, think… Later, whirling at the sharp crack of a twig behind him, "Elsie, please, I… just tell me… why h-him?!"**

* * *

**Who is this fellow she's walking out with? And such a rough looking sort, according to Molesley. I've tried so very hard to tell her how I feel, to show her at least. I'll have to see for myself, there she is now, knocking on Mrs. Crawley's door. My god, it couldn't be, not…Charlie Grigg!** It can't be… he can't do this again, not to Mrs Hughes… She's helping him get inside now, I can't believe my eyes, she's willing to be seen in public with such a… a… a bastard! (Why am i censuring myself?)

Maybe she doesn't know him very well, doesn't know him like i know him, she's been charmed and lied to and God knows what he's been telling her… about me. I hope not the truth! Oh Lord, please, don't let her know about my shame, I couldn't stand it!

But how did he find out? I never told him about her, it's not like with Lydia, I could understand Lydia but Mrs Hughes… falling for that old rug of a man? … and who am I to speak, I am an old rug myself, beaten one more time.

**I… I can't… no, I need some time… the ruins, that's the place… I can breathe, think… B**ut think of what? that old filthy man's hand on my beloved Mrs Hughes? (My beloved Mrs Hughes?! Where does this come from? Maybe it's time I aknowledge my weakness, I can't lie anymore, not now) not even pacing along the ruins path is doing anything to soothe the (heart-)ache. I must confess… No, I must confront him and demand he leaves her alone (to me) because we both know how it ended up with Lydia and I cannot… I cannot think about what it would be if Mrs Hughes were to leave downton… No, he cannot do this to her, I won't allow it!

This is about me and me only, J know, he wants me to die alone and in shame, taking away all that is dear to me, he hates me that much now… That thief… That's all he was ever able to do: steal.

He stole my happyness once… Lydia… She was so beautiful, she was so innocent. And I was going to propose and leave life on the stages and his petty methods behind, settle down, have a family… Dreams, just empty dreams now. Lydia fell for him much too fast. How could I ever walk the stages and work with him again, call him 'friend' after that? He just wanted to show me what a mistake it would have been to marry that girl, he said… But I left him anyway, oh best decision of my life!

It lead me to downton. And to meet Mrs Hughes. And now that I have something to live for again he have to destroy it! (Overdramatic, Charles, calm down!)

Pacing in circles is not doing anything. I never felt this restless since… since… since her cancer scare, actually. (The fear of losing her I suppose).

But why him? Of all men, why Grigg?

Who am I fooling, even if she dismisses Grigg in the end she won't look at me twice knowing I once performed in the halls, stole from the kitchen and affiliated with such a filthy old beggar. I already lost her… I'm ruined, shamed, alone, as good as dead! (Don't be so melodramatic, Charles! But do go on…)

I'll see her tonight, tell her about Grigg, tell her about the old days and make a fool of myself even if she probably already knows. I'll tell her tonight, ask her to stay, to not leave (me)… for him, oh Lord, why him?

**[… whirling at the sharp crack of a twig behind him] T**here she is! How did she find me? What is she doing here? Oh Lord, Charles, breathe! You're making a fool of yourself already!

"Mr Carson,"

**"**Mrs Hughes**, please, I… just tell me… why h-him?!"**

Did I startle her? "Good evening to you too, Mr Carson." Great, now she's upset, why can't I shut up for once?

"I apologise Mrs Hughes, I don't know what… " I'm stuttering, stuttering like a little boy! God have mercy, let a lightning hit me now! Why does it have to be so sunny in such a gloomy day.

"Will you walk wit me?"

She wants to walk with me? Yes, I'll walk with her to the moon and back, I'll walk with her to the Gates of Hell and get inside if she asks. (Whatever happened to me? I've never thought this kind of thoughts, what an uneven feeling)

"I suppose you found out about Mr Grigg," Yes, my love (My love?) I did "and you're upset with me for not telling you." Upset? I'm not upset? I'm beyond upset! I'm furious! I'm jealous! (Am I? Jealous? … Oh stop lying to yourself, you are, Charles Carson, head over heels for the housekeeper and you're a jealous man right now, act accordingly)

"I'm worried, Mrs Hughes," Worried, sounds better than jealous, more… honourable, how could i explain 'jealous' to her? "Charlie Grigg is not a respectable man."

"He's your friend, Mr Carson."

Oh hell, no! "He is NOT!" Oops, I think I scared her, don't be scared, love, I shouldn't yell, ever again, I promise! "I am not," better "he's a thief and a beggar and he's trying to destroy my life because he thinks I owe him something." Well he did not make a fortune without me on the stages…

"He wants to apologise actually."

What? "What?"

"He told me about your life as a double act, told me about the stages," And now my disgrace is complete and total and I should lay down here and die (Yes, go overdramatic, Charles, like it's doing any good) "He told me how unfair he's been with you and he wants to apologise."

… "…"

"Mr Carson, I think he's sincerly sorry now, not like that other time…" And she knows about that time too. How will I ever face her earnest look again? "Please, he just wants to meet you, ask for your forgiveness," What about you?

"Do you love him, Mrs Hughes?"

"What?" What? Was i too direct? What happens? What's that look?

"Is that why you care so much for that… man?"

Why is she smiling now? I'll never understand women.

"No, it's because I care about you, and this matter's been upsetting you for quite some time now, I cannot have you stress about it any longer." How does she know? (You're not asking the right questions, Charles, focus on the first half of the sentence for heaven's sake!) "Will you meet him? Listen to what he wants to tell?"

"Do you want me to?"

"If it helps, Mr Carson," When did my hand end up in hers? Oh, I think this is already helping a great deal, Mrs Hughes, I don't feel the urge to disappear overnight anymore. (But please keep holding my hand, it's a dark path ahead.)


	16. The one with the crepe suzette

**It is the end of the night, Charles has shoo-ed the staff off to bed with empty threats of early morning tasks. He walks into her parlor bearing a tray and after pouring two glasses, he sits next to her on the settee. "There was only one serving of the Crepe Suzette, will you share with me?" He holds the fork out such that she has to lean in to receive the bite of crepe. Caramel sauces drips down her chin and she giggles as she reaches up to wipe her chin with her finger.**

* * *

She blushes slightly, "One would think at my age I would have learned to not make a mess when I have dessert…"

But his gaze is lovingly tender as he passes her a napkin. She thanks him, then accepts another bite from his fork and he watches mesmerized as she lets a satisfied barely suppressed moan pass her lips. They rarely share leftover desserts, it usually is just wine or tea, and even when they do it's from two different forks… But neither of them minded when he offered her the first bite even if she had a second fork in her hands. And then he took a bite for himself and she waited a second too long to ready her own and he promptly kept feeding her without a question.

"I must remember to thank Mrs Patmore in the morning, she outdid herself this time," he muses in between bites, eyes never leaving her smiling lips. She had a rough month and he cannot remember the last time he saw her this relaxed and happy. What wonders does the rush of sugar to your mood, he thinks. He'd never dare to wish he has a role in the picture.

She meets his gaze and blushes an adorable shade of crimson.

"Mr Carson, …" her sentence fades as she hints at his chin with her caramel coated fingers. He miskates her movement and inches closer, so close she touches his lips with her hand and he tastes sweet caramel. It's just a fraction of a second before she leans in and tastes it too, directly from his lips.

Their first kiss was a rather sweet one.


	17. The one with the walk back together

**"Mr. Carson, shall we… walk back together?" Elsie scurried to catch up to him when he paused to consider her question, smiling to herself when he shuffled to place her to the inside, the way any gentleman would for his lady. They walked along in companionable silence until the Abbey came into view from a small rise in the road. Turning to look down, he studied her with unabashed curiosity, causing her to blush and turn her own gaze to study the tips of their shoes between them.**

_AN: I wrote a_ tumblr dialogue_ following that scene the other day before receiving this prompt so I decided this is a sequel of said dialogue... that's why i shall paste it here as well and that's why it's plain dialogue :P_

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Elsie: Are you torturing yourself with 'what ifs' now?

Charles: No, I did that for so many years...

Elsie: Do you regret it?

Charles: I think... Alice made her choice and regretted it all her life, making her marriage an unhappy one. And who knows if she ever really loved me enough. It could have been the same with me. I don't know.

Elsie: [worries her lip]

Charles: I regret not having children.

Elsie: [cries inside]

Charles: Have you ever wanted children Mrs Hughes?

Elsie: I suppose, I never met the right person (when I could) but I'm happy with my life, now. Aren't you, Mr Carson?

Charles: Sure, I am, Mrs Hughes

* * *

He speaks again then: "If it weren't for you, Mrs Hughes, fishing through my wastepaper basket, I would have never known."

She blushes then, embarrassed, knowing what she did was indeed wrong in the first place. Yet not regretting it in the least. He seems to have stitched his wounds and maybe got his heart fixed as well.

"Thank you." he adds as an afterthought, feeling her discomfort.

"This means," she asks cautious "you're not mad at me anymore?"

She can see from the corner of her eye he wears a shy smile and is looking at the ground now. "No Mrs Hughes, I'm not," he answers "but don't make a habit of it." he admonishes with a chuckle.

She smiles back up at him thinking she should feel relieved. But she's not. The house is just a few turns of the path ahead now and everything will soon go back to normal. Back to being _the butler_ and _the housekeeper_, back to sharing leftover wine and cups of tea late at night and not talking about past heartbreaks and future prospects. She feels this is the end of the road.

Then he does something she wasn't expecting: he sorts a picture from his breast pocket, Alice's, and tears it in half. And then tears those halves in quarters till the image is unrecognizable, letting its confetti fall at his feet.

She watches silent till he looks up at her but there is no anger or heartbreak in his eyes and she thinks his puzzled expression is in fact answering her mortified look. "I'm so sorry, this is not what you hoped for, Mr carson."

He smiles weakly: "Sometimes we're better off the things we want most." And she cannot help thinking about finally letting go of him too, be brave enough to admit she never had a chance, let their friendship be just that… She's happy with her life now, isn't she?

"Thank you for not giving up on my stubborn self, Mrs Hughes," he says when they are now a few steps from the back door.

"Nonsense." she answers.

He's talking about getting him to meet Grigg and remember Alice, find closure and yet… her resolution wavers.

She hides her emotions behind a smile, prays for her voice not to falter and looks him in the eyes: "You are my favourite person, Mr carson."


	18. The one with the beach party

**Elsie had admonished him to leave the serving on the sand covered beach to the younger and more agile footmen but he had taken her remark as a slight to his abilities as Butler and insisted on being in attendance the entire day. Charles performed admirably but at the very end of the day, he was hot and tired and took a misstep in the sand. They both heard a loud popping sound followed by a crack as he collapsed into a heap on the sand.**

_AN: I had to alter this one a bit because I don't think the housekeeper would follow the family on a trip to the beach, so in this one just assume she's home, waiting :)_

* * *

She already called Dr Clarkson when he arrives in a motorcar at the back door. The family will be back tomorrow but his lordship judged his condition would better be addressed as soon as possible even if Charles told him over and over he was fine.

He obviously wasn't, if Elsie could read Dr Clarkson's expression.

"Are you sure it isn't broken?" she asks him when he emerges from his room.

"The ankle was out of place and the swelling is making it look worse than it is," says the doctor in a flat tone, then, leaning closer in conspiracy he adds: "Make him rest, he will only be ok if he doesn't charge his leg with any weight for the next 2 weeks."

"I'll make sure he stays in bed." she promises.

Later, she brings him tea. He's in pain, cranky and moody as expected but there are no '_I told you_' stored for him, only efficient planning and firm words of wisdom on her part. She makes him swear he won't leave the bed. They bicker about trusting Mr Barrow with more _butlery stuff_ than usual, he doesn't want to, she argues it'll be a good way to test the man, they settle for letting him be in charge of most things except the wine cellar.

Not that he lacks sitting tasks, but there are only so many books he can read, so many hours he can sleep… He is bored. Elsie comes everyday at his side but their conversations mostly revolve around business matters, planning over half filled teacups, she's always short of time, requested elsewhere, Mr barrow is proving himself to be a task for her too… He looks at his aching ankle every now and then and scoffs under his breath.

One week after the incident he is still in bed, annoyed. The party downstairs seemes to go on forever and the book Mr Bates gave him is laying open on his bedside table as he rests his eyes looking out the window.

Elsie comes in only after midnight, quietly checking if he's still awake. He is, of course, and has been waiting all night for her visit. She brings tea and sits next to his bed on an armchair. She looks tired.

"I am," she answers rolling her eyes and suppressing a yawn "I thought they'd never retire to bed tonight!" He knows she must have been drained already from the preparation of the party, nevermind the night itself. She sips her tea with eyes half closed and unfocused, enquiring about the book of the day.

"It's quite interesting," he starts "not my usual reading but I trust Mr Bates, let's see how it ends." But when he looks up at her she's leaned her head on the headrest, empty cup still in hands, balanced on her knees. She just closed her eyes and fell alseep.

He never saw her sleep before. Sleepy, once or twice… but never asleep.

He thinks about taking the cup to a safer place but he knows his touch would wake her and he's not ready to give that heavenly sight up, not just yet. He sighs thinking his foolish behaviour lead to her overtiring herself, scolds himself for causing everyone so much trouble, yet… He's grateful for the present being. She brought him tea as promised even if she was exhauseted, and she felt relaxed enough to fall asleep in his room.

He thinks this is probably the only chance he'll ever have to see her like that.

But he does take her cup away, repositioning it on the bedside table, and she cracks her eyes open, barely registering her surroundings. He smiles up at her and shakes his head when she apologizes.

"Good night Mrs Hughes."

"Good night Mr Carson," she whispers back tucking him in. He supposes she's not completely aware of her doings when she ruffles his hair and kisses his cheek before turning the lights off and leaving his room.

He lays there in the dark wide awake for a moment longer, the warm impression of the softest of touches still lingering.


	19. The one with Anna's secret

_This one's a little different: I couldn't see the prompt fit in my headcanon and it needed some adjusting for me to make a scene work. I hope my dear chelsie anon doesn't mind too much :(_

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**Charles scratched the back of his neck in frustration, she had taken to avoiding him & seemed to be angry with him. He'd tried to ask her what he had done wrong but Elsie would only scowl & march off shaking her head, mumbling something about keeping her word. She & Anna seemed to be at odds as well, and when he finally cornered her in one of the empty bedrooms & refused to let her leave until they'd settled whatever it was that was coming between them, she burst into tears.**

* * *

AN: Ok that was the prompt but I changed some details. I decided to write it in loose (very loose) script format for a change. Told you it's an odd one...

_Cut to: Mrs H sitting room, night. Mrs H and Mr C are sitting at her table with a glass of sherry each._

_Mr C_: "I wish you'd tell me what was going on earlier, you seem all so… snappy."

_Mrs H_: "You're a kind man Mr Carson, you wouldn't understand." _He tilts his head_ "Not every man is as kind."

_Mr C_: "Has someone been unkind to you Mrs Hughes?"

_Mrs H_: "Don't worry about that Mr Carson."

_Mr C_: "Mrs Hughes, if someone under this roof has been disrespectful to you I demand to know!"

_Mrs H purses her lips. Cut to: detail of Mr C's hand curled in a fist, Mrs H reaches out and places her hand on his, gently dissipating his rage as his hand uncurls._

_Mrs H_: "Not to me, Mr Carson, not to me."

_They share a meaningful look._

_Mr C_: "Is there something I can do?"

_Mrs H_: "Keep an eye on our guests if you can, see that they're never left alone with the female staff…"

_Mr C nods. Cut to: outside Mrs H sitting room, the door is open and we see Mr C standing and excusing himself out. Mrs H is standing at the doorstep with a worried expression. Cut to: black._


	20. The one with the death of the Dowager

**The staff was called upstairs for an announcement. The Dowager Countess had succumbed to the pneumonia that had stricken her days before and the house would be plunged into mourning once again. Charles… Elsie's first thought was of him, her eyes darting around the room, searching for his hulking form. "Pardon me, your Lordship, Mr. Carson…" she began. "Carson took it rather hard," grimaced Lord Grantham, "said he wanted to walk from the Dower House, has he not arrived yet?"**

* * *

She waits. And waits. And Mrs Patmore feels the need to comfort her with a _don't worry, he'll be here any minute now_ or other phrasings of similar meaning from time to time.

He arrives late for supper, his face stoic. His words sharp. Everyone is on edge, his glare shuts up all conversation and even the clatter of forks on plates seems to upset him.

For how much Elsie tries, he never makes eye contact and retires in his pantry soon after. He's been missing for 4 hours and barely spoke so she waits in her sitting room, at least for a goodnight. But it never comes. She finds his pantry dark when she goes for a glass of water from the kitchen before bed.

She sighs to herself, bids goodnight to Mrs Patmore and climbs the stairs to her room early.

But she cannot sleep. She can only imagine what is going on in his mind and his heart now that his favourite member (Lady Mary aside) of his beloved surrogate family is gone. She never understood his fascination with the _old bat_ but it pains her to see him closing up to everyone. To her mostly if she's sincere enough.

She's still sitting at her dressing table, braiding her hair for the night when she hears a small knock. She cracks the door open thinking she might have imagined it but there's his unmistakable silhouette in the shadows of the hall and he's whispering something.

For a second longer she pauses, trying to make sense of the odds: Charles Carson standing in the women's wing, outisde her door in his nightwear?! She pulls at his sleeves and lets him in, checking the hall for possible witnesses.

"My apologies for disturbing," he says barely audible.

Closing the door behind her back she aknowledges her state of undress. Both of them are in fact considerably unsuitably attired for conversation. And he's whispering and this feels all the more forbidden in her eyes. A feeling she's oddly at ease with.

"Nevermind that," she cuts him "where have you been all afternoon?"

He seems surprised and diverts his gaze to the ground embarrassed as she ties her nightgown: "I thought I'd clear my head." The point of his ears reddening, she finds it endearing.

Chastising herself for the thoughts she offers him a chair but he refuses. "I wanted to wait for tomorrow but I couldn't… I couldn't sleep."

He's sharing his grief now, she can see it in his eyes and she knows he'll never say more than that and she'll understand none the less, so she steps closer and touches his arm, lets him know she's there for him without words, he takes her hand and they both sit on the bed, close, like all energy suddenly left them.

"I went to the village," he finally admits "I sat on a bench and watched people passing by."

"For four hours?"

"Almost," he answers, a hint of indignation in his voice that makes her smile at the most inappropriate time. But surprisingly he smiles back.

"For almost four hour I could only think about the past. I realized I thought only about the past for the last four decades and tonight, in my pantry, I considered the future, my future, for the first time."

She squeezes his hand lightly and he seems to realize just now they are holding hands, sitting on her bed in their nightclothes and a brighter shade of red creeps up at his cheeks. He's eyeing the door now and she's unsure if he wants to run or afraid someone else might enter but he makes no attempt to move, instead he squeezes her hand back. "Are you trying to tell me something is going to change, Mr Carson?"

He nods quietly, sighs then speaks again: she listens as he talks about finally retiring, possibly living in a cottage, having a small garden, fishing… Another life, something he never thought possible before. She listens and squeezes his hand as this is the only thing still keeping him at her side as he slips further away, word after word.

They sit alone in her room for the first time, undressed, on her bed, and it's nothing like she ever fantasized about in her dreams. It sounds, in fact, like a goodbye to her ears. Something resembling tears gathers in her belly and she's relieved she's not required to speak or she's sure her voice would catch in her throat and that pool of sorrow would overflow.

He stops talking then, considers his next words studying the pattern on her bedding, avoiding her eyes once again.

"There are some things I don't want to change," he affirms with resolution and she sees what an effort it is for him to admit this truth "constants in my life I don't wish to give up."

He sits straighter now and untagles their fingers, fidgeting with his nightogown collar as it's suddenly itchy. And she's drifting offshore, drowning…

"You, Mrs Hughes, are one of them."

Hearing it out loud sobers them both up. Her wet smile reassures him, their fingers tangled again. Not an ending, perhaps a late beginning.


	21. The one with the framed picture

**"Gòrach bodach!" she grumbled affectionately, moving the silver frame to gather the inventory sheets forgotten on his desk. Turning it to catch the soft lamplight, she gasped and hurried back to her parlor. Charles looked up to find Elsie standing beside him silver frame in hand. "I don't understand, Charles," she said hesitantly. Trying to keep his own voice calm, "Because Alice is my past, and you are my present," he said carefully, "And if I am a very lucky man…"**

* * *

"You are lucky if no one saw it!" she cuts him short.

He frowns, clearly disappointed by her lack of enthusiasm for his display of affection: "What do you mean?"

"I mean I thought we agreed no one needs to know about our _understanding_, not just yet… When did you frame my picture?"

"Last night, right after you gave it to me." he replies proudly.

But she rolls her eyes: "And what if someone saw it?"

"Then what? I had the picture of a dear friend on my desk before."

"Yes but not a friend you need no reminder of since we see each other everyday!" she scoffs "Heavens, this is not why I gave you the picture in the first place." she adds in a softer tone, conspiratorially.

His frown deepens: "No?! What did you do with my picture?"

"I put it in my bedside table," she whispers with a little smirk "second drawer." she clarifies, eyeing his growing pouts.

"In a drawer?" he doesn't want to sound hurt but he's clearly failing and she finds it even more lovely.

"For my eyes only."

He's watching her like she's a bizarre animal now and she feels the tip or her ears in flames.

"I mean, I always had a good imagination…" she pauses to swallow and bits her lip unsure "But it's nice to have something to look at."

She sees his eyes grow round and his lips parting in mute understanding. He clearly never even thought she needs to use the toilet like any other human being, let alone self pleasures.

* * *

_AN: I'm so, sooooo... NOT sorry xD ahahhahah_


	22. The one with the talk about Anna

_AN: Guys, thank you so much for the reviews! :) but even just for reading really XD THANK YOU!_

_I just wanted to warn you, since I'm not comfortable with the theme of the season concerning Anna and Bates (I really really really don't like this storyline) I was trying to _fluffify_ this one... but I kind of failed ._. No I'm sure I failed so... be warned, this one's sort of angsty_

* * *

**He watched from the hall, mother & daughter, or as good as. Hurrying to the kitchen when Anna left, he gathered up the wine & reached for the tin of shortbreads that Beryl kept hidden above the sink. He entered without knocking & locked the door behind him. "Will you tell me now, what's been going on?" "I'm surprised you've not heard about it from Mr. Bates," she replied with a grim smile. "Bates is even more surly than he was before & I'd like to know what the problem is."**

* * *

Elsie holds her glass high for him to fill it and takes a tentative sip before answering.

"It's the baby," she admits.

"What about the baby?" he asks sitting opposite her with his own glass.

"Mr Bates says she's going through morning sickness now and I can see she's exhausted and I told her to rest, shifted some of her tasks to other maids…"

She hesitates to continue then and Charles refills her glass one more time.

"Anna wants to pretend nothing changed but she's asking too much from herself, she's risking her health, and that of the baby as well."

Charles frowns in between sips and tilts his head deep in thought.

"She hasn't told Lady Mary yet."

This new information seems to upset him more somehow and his frown deepens: "She's gonna show at some point, what is she waiting for?" he mutters "Do you think she wants this baby as much as Mr Bates?"

"What? Of course! … At least, I think… Why wouldn't she?"

"I don't know," he admits "it seemed they had a falling out last year."

"Well…"

But she doesn't develop her thoughts and they both drink the rest of the wine in silence till Charles stands up with a sigh and paces the lenght of the room. Of all the people he saw falling in love through the years he never thought Mr Bates and dear Anna would end up being so unhappy.

"I think Anna is scared," Charles hears her say "there were other…"

"… babies?" he guesses disbelieving his suggestion.

But she nods silently, probably regretting telling him, but now that they're alone in her sitting room, high on wine and both tired of secrets she thinks the night will erase the feeling. She feels lonely, he can tell.

"Anna was so happy the first time," she whispers "she wanted to tell the whole world but it lasted only a week…"

He can see her eyes are glistening with hidden tears now and he wishes he'd never asked. But it's too late, he sits back next to her, suddenly exhausted, thinking sharing this burden with someone will do her good, at least. And he finds himself desperately wanting to see her happy again.

"It happens, sometimes," she explains avoiding his eyes "but it happened again, and again, to Anna." Her voice tapers off then and she dries her eyes discretely.

"I'm so sorry"

"She's afraid now, she doesn't want to hope anymore."

"I can understand."

"Do you?" she asks then looking him in the eyes "Because I don't."

This sudden confession gets him off guarded and he fixes her wide eyed.

"She can have it all: a family, the man she loves, his baby… and her job, with a little balance."

"I don't think she'll work again if she gets to keep the baby" he objects.

"And why not? We had a maid with child before."

"That was different."

"I'd help then!"

"You?! With everything you already have to do?"

"I don't mind."

"I do mind! You'd tire yourself into the grave!"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

She shakes her head but he can feel his cheeks burning: "And what if she retires to look after her child, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! But I want her to have the option, I don't want her to choose work over family like I did"

This shuts him up. This shuts them both up. Something burning hot hanging in the air. Maybe it's the wine… His ears are ringing and he's afraid the memories of once upon a time when he threw any and every idea of a family of his own away with the ring he had bought for Alice show on his features. He reads similar lines on her face and his heart races to the point it aches.

"I beg your pardon," she whispers.

"No, you're right… They can have it all," he admits "we should help them."

"They deserve it."

He nods. They deserved it too but it didn't happen.

After they part on top of the stairs that night Charles goes to bed thinking about what ifs. He dreams a dream he often had his first years in service, one that faded over time… of coming back home every day and kiss his wife and children. This time they have a Scottish lilt and Elsie's bright eyes.

* * *

AN: _Told you!_


End file.
